


Blood Oath

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civil War, Coming of Age, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Simon has a plan. It's not a very good one, but it's all he's got. This was his mess, and he'll be damned (again) before he allows anyone else to pay for his mistakes. Come hell or high water, Camille was going to burn.





	1. Blood Pact

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is going to be a monster. I've already begun the second chapter, but this first one was about eight or so pages long, sooo... I make no promises about the updating but it will happen. 
> 
> That being said, I would like to explain a few tweaks I implemented. Simon was a total sarcastic bad-ass in the books, and as much as I love the cute, rambling Simon on the TV Show, I think that the Book!Simon was better suited for the world Clary kinda plunged him into. The deeper he got involved in it, the more he changed to adapt, and that's something   
> TV!Simon hasn't really worked on so far. As such I've brought in the majority of those elements of Simon's character into it, or at least as much as I could.
> 
> Also, Simon fucked up. He fucked up big time, and I don't agree with the fact that he kind of brushed it off in the TV Show. So, Simon will be atoning for his mistake here. 
> 
> And slow burn. Like I said, Simon has a lot he needs to be forgiven for, and honestly, Raphael deserves to be romanced and wooed.
> 
> Lastly, I will do my very best to keep everyone in line with their acknowledged sexuality. I've heard that Raphael is asexual and so I will try to honor that as best I can, please try to understand that I have only research to go off of, and will most likely make mistakes. If that happens please point them out to me and I will correct it immediately. 
> 
> On another note, in regards to Simon, who was for the most part heterosexual throughout the books in his relationships, I'm going to have to fall in with the pansexual headcannon, mostly because, well, have you read the scenes with Jace? (Sorry, that'll probably be the only break!)
> 
> Thank you!

Simon had known from the start that his plan was a gamble, and the stakes were his life. Well, _un_ life, really. He had managed, somehow, to track her down through the Sire bond to an old apartment building that went bankrupt a couple months ago. The first thing he had noticed when he entered the building, shoulders straight and chin raised, was that Camille’s clan was mainly comprised of fledglings, and there were only a handful of full grown vampires lounging around. Simon noticed Camille lounging on a chaise in the center of the room, two mundanes draped over each other on the floor, the slight rise and fall of their shoulders was a relief. A third mundane was kneeling at Camille’s shoulder, her wrist offered to the gorgeous female.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my sweet, little caramel!” she had purred, licking the blood from her lips. “What’s the matter, all alone after Raphael kicked you out? Couldn’t quite get to the kiss and make up part of the fight, could you?” Simon clenched his jaw on a scathing remark and merely ducked his head in subservience.

“I’ve got nowhere else to go,” was his only response to her taunts. As her mocking laughter rang in his ears, he reminded himself that this was for Raphael, for his clan, his people. Camille was too dangerous to be allowed to continue unchecked. And it was his fault that she was.

“I suppose you’ll be useful to me at some point. Pick a room, caramel.” She waved him off and fit her teeth back into the sluggishly bleeding mark on the girl’s wrist once more. The fledglings loitering in the room stiffened as the scent of fresh blood hit the air but remained where they were, some of them desperately gulping down the bagged blood Camille had dragged around. None of them paid any attention to Simon but a grizzled man in the back of the room. He smiled wolfishly, instinct telling him that the boy who had just joined their ranks was more than he seemed. He dislodged from his perch and circled the room, following after the boy.

Simon was on high alert as he skulked down the hallway. There was no way that it could be that easy, even as bat-shit crazy as she had seemed, Camille had been around for a long, long time for a reason. So when the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and a hand clamped down on his shoulder, Simon was ready. Gripping the wrist near his shoulder, Simon slid back a step into the other’s body and leveraged him up and over Simon’s shoulder. The vampire landed with a heavy thud and a slight groan as Simon’s grip on his wrist twisted it into an uncomfortable position.

“Peace, little one!” the vampire on the floor laughed. Simon thinned his lips as he stared coldly down at the other, his grip tightening on the wrist.

“Why are you following me?” Simon leaned forwards a bit, gaining better leverage on the wrist and a clearer view of the vampire in front of him. He was huge, broad and tall. Laughing blue eyes stared up at him from a weather rough face, a thick beard obscured the lower half of his face.

“You’re interesting.” The man seemed to shrug in Simon’s hold and his voice contained the faint traces of a Russian accent.

“Thank you?” Simon was confused but he released the vampire after a few more seconds when it had become apparent that the other was not going to even attempt to break the hold.

“Come with me, kid.” The elder shot to his feet in the blink of an eye and began ushering Simon down the hallway.

“What? Why? Who are you?” Simon slapped at the hands that were gently shoving him and spinning away from the other.

“Name’s Henrik, and like I said you’re interesting. Let’s see what you can do.” Simon shot the man a squinty eyed look.

“No funny business, dude.” Henrik raised a scarred eyebrow at the fledgling before him.

“Don’t call me _dude_. Now let’s move.” Henrik reached out and gripped the baby vampire by the back of his neck and towed him along the hall to an empty gym. “Show me what you’ve got.” Simon glanced around nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Um?” Henrik sighed and punched the fledgling in the face. Simon went down hard and groaned into the mat, dark red blood leaked out of his healing nose. “Again. Show me what you’ve got.” Simon groaned again. Training. Again.

_

And so it went for the next three weeks, Simon’s life consisted of history lessons, sparring matches and texting his mother at odd hours to let her know that he was still ‘alive.’

Henrik would show up at all hours of the day and night to force him down to the gym for a fight. Simon had to admit that he was improving on his control by leaps and bounds through these sessions, and it kept him low on Camille’s radar.

“Why are you doing this?” Simon panted out between strikes to the padded gloves on Henrik’s hands.

“Doing what?”

“Helping me?” Simon paused and swiped a wrist over his damp forehead. Henrik had sat him down one night after a particularly grueling session and explained that the vampire body isn’t technically dead, the heart beat at a pace that was so slow it could be mistaken for being nonexistent, and the bodily functions that occurred while human still worked. Simon had been fascinated. For all that we have been made part demon, we were still human once, boy. That’s something that never truly fades.’

Henrik explained that nobody was entirely sure just what caused the Turning after being exposed to the virus, but the death of the host was definitely a trigger of some sort.

“You need a teacher, boy.” Henrik waved him on again. “You managed to screw up pretty early in your training with Raphael, and as clueless as you are, you would have ended up dead or at the mercy of the Shadowhunters. You need someone to educate you, someone to guide you until you can stand on your own two feet. Especially if you plan on going after Camille.”

Simon froze and stared at the dangerous man. “You- what?”

“You’re not exactly subtle, boy.” Henrik grinned fiercely. “And right now you’re about as effective against her as a Shadowhunter. Which is to say not at all.”

“What’s wrong with the Shadowhunters?” Simon had thought that the Shadowhunters could have handled Camille. Then he remembered that unless petitioned by one of the Children of the Night, they would make no move against her, unless a mundane was harmed or killed. Seeing how reluctant they had been the first time Camille had been in power of a larger, more powerful clan, Simon doubted such a petition would appear.

“For the most part? Nothing, but never let it be said that a Shadowhunter went out of their way to help a Downworlder. Without orders.” Simon huffed out a breath at that response, and a small voice in his mind reminded him of Clary’s alliance. Another reminded him of how quick she was to dismantle it when it suited her own needs, as well.

“Got it. Always watch your back.” Henrik grinned at Simon, his teeth bright and dangerous in the dim lighting.

“Now, you are learning, little one.” Simon felt a small tingle of pride at that before having his feet swept out from underneath him. He groaned as he landed on his shoulder and flopped onto his back.

“ _Jesu_ -“ he choked. Henrik laughed from above him.

_

Simon stumbled upon a couple of fledglings, gathered around a smaller girl and whispering to her gently. Simon had approached them silently, worry seeping into his mind as he noticed the smaller girl curled around her arm. It was close to dawn, and they should be in their rooms, were it was safe, not a drafty hallway full of ornate windows.

“Are you alright?” Simon murmured as he crouched down beside them, and they jumped, baring long, needle-tip fangs at the older fledgling. “Let me see?” The little girl sobbed and shook like a leaf as Simon gently eased her arm out from her protective curl. Bite marks littered the swollen skin, and his looked as though someone had smeared holy water on them, the skin flaking and blistering.

“I-I didn’t do it!” she wailed, collapsing into Simon’s chest and Simon understood for the first time the responsibility Raphael carried towards the others in the clan. Simon rocked the sobbing girl and gestured for the other two to return to their rooms before the light hit the hallway. With slow, careful movements he swayed to his feet, hefting the fledgling in his arms as he did so, quietly traversing through the halls to the suite that Simon had chosen on the fourth floor.

“It’s alright, little one.” Simon hummed softly, reaching through the sickening clan bonds to try and reach the girl. Camille’s influence as the clan leader made a mockery of the clan bonds Simon had felt back at Hotel Dumont, the seemingly effortless connection between the clan members was frayed and distorted. The utter _perversity_ of the vampire’s most highly treasured secret made Simon’s skin crawl. He noticed, however, that the longer he sent soothing sensations through the bond to the girl in his arms the calmer she became, wide green eyes stared up at him in curious fear.

“What… What is that? What’re you doing?” her voice was soft, barely louder than a whisper and Simon felt so much sorrow for her.

“It’s called a clan bond.” Simon smiled at her as he nudged his door open with a hip, and kicked it closed after he had wrangled them through the narrow doorway. “It’s kind of like a psychic bond between the clan members, like a web, and at the center of the web is the clan leader.”

“Psychic?!” The girl’s voice dipped into a quieter pitch than before and Simon winced.

“Kind of. No one can read your thoughts, but they can sense general specifics, like if your close by or not, if your healthy. Safety related things.” The girl seemed to settle slightly at the explanation and relaxed into the pillows on the bed Simon had stretched her out on. She was new, not much older than a few weeks, and Simon knew that she’d be feeling the pull of the sun any minute now. “I’m Simon, by the way.”

“Carrie.” The child whispered, her eyes already sliding shut. Simon wrinkled his nose at the wound on her arm, knowing that the holy water would stop him from being able to do much to help, but he stood and padded into the small kitchen in his room. He poured her a small glass of blood, and snagged a dishtowel on his way back to the room for her arm, resigning himself to a long day on the couch.

“Carrie. C’mon, you need to drink this.” Simon nudged the fledgling’s shoulder a bit, and her eyes fluttered open. She accepted the blood and bore him clumsily wrapping up her forearm with a silent grace the Simon envied. He had been too preoccupied with denying his new abilities during his first couple weeks that he had missed out on being able to cultivate a newer image while with Raphael and his clan. Carrie seemed to have escaped that problem.

“Why are you helping me?” she whispered, staring into the glass in her hand and Simon sighed, squatting in his heels before answering.

“Because, when I was Turned I had someone to look out for me.” Simon felt a bitter smile tug at his mouth. “Of course, I also took that for granted and managed to get myself banished, but still. I had him, for a while and it made all the difference in the world to me. You don’t-can’t, with Camille as your clan head. So, I figured I’d take a page out of his book for once.”

“How’d you mess up?” Carrie’s question was innocent and she blinked up at him curiously.

“I swore an oath that I could not break to someone I thought I could trust. As a result I ended up freeing Camille, and destroying whatever chances I had with my former clan.” Carrie frowned at him.

“But that wasn’t your fault. Why’d you get banished?”

“Because it was by my hand Camille escaped and those that needed her also needed a scapegoat.” Simon sighed wistfully. “I don’t blame him, my clan leader. He did what he had to in order to ensure the safety of the clan.”

“Simon…” Carrie’s eyes were sliding shut as she spoke. “I don’t want Camille to be my Sire… I don’t want to be here anymore.” Bloody tears welled up in her eyes, and Simon brushed a soothing hand over her hair.

“I know.” Simon whispered sadly as Carrie dropped off into a deep slumber. With an exhaustion Simon had felt only once before, when his father had died, he collapsed onto the couch in the main room. Simon wanted to just curl up in a ball in his old room and go back to a time before Raphael, before he felt love and heartbreak in equal measure as he thought of the gorgeous and impossible man. Before he was Turned and forgot who he was and what he stood for. Before Clary had turned into a stranger in front of his very eyes, hardened by a war that was not hers to fight and a prejudice that was not hers to claim.

Instead he was woken by a heavy hand smacking him on the nose and a rumbling voice telling him he had five minutes to be downstairs, _Or Else_. So Simon hauled himself up right, and went down to the gym to get his ass handed to him by the only other vampire in the hotel that was anywhere close to Camille’s age and capabilities. And so the routine went, only this time, Simon was approached by numerous fledglings at all hours for comfort when Camille had gotten too rough with them. Apparently Carrie had told them about the way Simon could manipulate the clan bonds, and under Henrik’s careful eye, he taught the others how to feel their clan mates, how to distinguish between them and feel each one within their soul. Slowly, Simon showed the fledglings of Camille’s nest how to heal their bonds.

_

Camille began to eye Simon a bit more closely after Simon’s first lesson.

_

“Henrik, why are you here? With Camille, I mean?” Simon asked him during practice on evening, surprising Henrik enough for the young vampire to knock his feet out from under him and press the steel rods they were practicing with against his throat. Simon had long since got past the urge to get cocky with his successes and eyed the other for a moment. Henrik double tapped the mat and Simon lifted the rod and scooted away.

“Why do you ask?” Henrik was a man of few words Simon had come to realize. When he spoke it was always carefully thought out before hand and always had a point to it.

“Well, she’s kind of insane and honestly I’m surprised the _Clave_ hasn't found this nest of hers _already_. They seem to have no trouble finding the little side nests she’s been sending her lieutenants out to create throughout New York.” Simon shrugged, “it’s just you seem above all that, so what’re you getting out of being in the clan with her?”

Henrik eyed him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here out of loyalty to Camille. I am here as a favor to an old friend, who owed a favor to another clan head. I was told a fledgling might go to Camille. I was to do my best to protect him from Camille’s influence, as much as I would be allowed anyway.” Simon tensed as he realized who would have done this for him.

“Even after…” Simon’s head bowed and he clenched his eyes shut. 

“Mmhmm. Simon, little one, we vampires feel deeply. Does this really surprise you?” Henrik raised an eyebrow at the other, watching as he seemed to fold into himself, his eyes glimmering with regret.

“ _No._ ” Simon breathed. Henrik sighed and eyed his student for a moment.

“You are in no position to be training. Now, go.” Simon hesitated, and Henrik glared at him before firmly shooing him out of the gym. Simon hastily showered off the light sheen of sweat and tugged on a pair of worn jeans and a black Henley before racing out of the apartment complex. Pausing a few blocks away, Simon ran a hand through his now damp hair and tugged out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts before clicking on the one face he knew might be open to seeing him.

“Shamone?” Magnus’ voice was like a balm to Simon’s chaotic mind.

“Hey, Magnus.” Simon cleared his throat. “You got some free time tonight?”

_

Magnus had squeezed Simon into a fierce hug when he saw him standing on the porch of his building. It was followed by a harsh smack on the back of the head and a glass of blood. Simon had never missed the Warlock that had watched out for him for the week it had taken Simon to find Camille.

“What happened to you?” Magnus whispered, and Simon sighed before collapsing onto Magnus’ porch steps. It was a cool summer night and Simon could barely make out the faint shimmer of stars in the sky.

“It’s a long story.” Magnus went to go make some tea.

_

Simon scowled down at the spotless dagger in his hands, scrubbing at the nonexistent stains on the blade. The concrete steps of Magnus’ porch were uncomfortable and the sounds of traffic passing by were familiar enough to drown out his thought. His phone vibrated against the step next to his hip. He glanced down at the screen, Clary’s smiling face stared up at him, and he sighed irritably and ignored the buzzing as he had since the night Camille had escaped.

“You can’t avoid her forever.” Magnus’ lilting accent sounded behind him. The only sign of his surprise was a momentary tensing of the muscles in his shoulders. Simon scrubbed harder at the blade as Magnus curled up on the step behind him, his shins digging into Simon’s upper back. The scent of Magnus’ favorite chai tea wafted through the air, and Simon found himself longing for the ability to eat regular food, without blood once more.

“She doesn’t have forever.” Simon growled, his normally smiling face set into cold, serious lines.

“Seamus.” Magnus chided, a ringed hand rapping him gently on the back of his head. Simon huffed and stopped torturing the gleaming blade in his hands, instead running a pale hand through his brown curls. Another difference after the change. His normally frizzy semi-curly, semi-wavy hair had smoothed into thick ringlets. Got to be an attractive monster of the night, he mused bitterly to himself.

“No, Magnus,” Simon argued softly, and normally that would be the end of that. Magnus respected him enough not to push about why he was ducking Clary’s calls and hiding out in one of Magnus’ many spare rooms. It was why he was here in the first place. “You don’t know what she did. What it cost me.”

Magnus slurped his tea, and the shushing whisper of silk sliding against cotton gave Simon the impression of him shrugging. “That’s true. But it can’t be that bad. She’s your best friend, Shannon.” Simon smiled bitterly.

“When I was six, I met a little girl at school. She had the brightest hair I’d ever seen and the prettiest smile. We became friends when I punched another kid on the playground for making fun of her freckles. I broke his nose.” Magnus made an amused noise into his mug, the heat seeping into his hands. It was getting cold out, Simon mused. Winter was just around the corner. “A couple months later we had the bright idea to make a promise to each other. We promised to always be there for each other no matter what, till death do us part. Sealed it with blood.”

“A blood pact?” Magnus whispered, and Simon glanced over his shoulder, tired brown eyes meeting squinted green.

“Yeah.” Simon mumbled, turning his gaze back to the ground. “After that, things got a bit weird for me. I could see things that my sister couldn’t, and I learned the hard way that I couldn’t break any promise I made.”

“Don’t tell me…”

“So, of course, stupid human me, had to go and promise Clary that I’d do something to help her find her mom.” Simon balled up the cloth, and Magnus’ long fingered hand dropped onto his shoulder. “It was fine, you know? I had just started getting used to the idea that I was a vampire. That I’d never see sunlight, that my family wouldn’t be safe around me until they were too old to remember who I even was, that I’d be stuck drinking blood for the rest of my life. I had started bonding with the clan, making friends.” Simon blinked hard, a hot ball of emotion in his throat. “I had just started getting to know Raphael…”

“Simon,” Magnus whispered, his tone so achingly sad.

“And then. Clary calls me one night, ‘Simon, I need your help, it’s for my mom.’ And what do I do? What I’ve always done, went to go help Clary in whatever mess she makes. ‘You promised me, Simon.’ She said to me. I begged her to figure out another way, to let me try to reason with Raphael, anything. But she insisted. The reason, Magnus, I’m not with the clan is because I helped Clary free Camille.” Simon chuckled bitterly. “I lost my clan, and I helped break an alliance that could have prevented Valentine from being able to cause as much damage as he is now. Camille is walking around, free from the Clave’s punishment, Raphael has a kill order placed on me, and I get to spend my eternity alone.”

“Oh, my poor fledgling.” Magnus cooed, threading warm fingers through Simon’s curls. Simon’s hands shook, knuckles white as he clenched them into fists so hard he wasn’t sure he’d be able to straighten out his fingers.

“The real kicker is that, in the mess of our daring escape, Camille took off. And so, Clary forced me to ruin any semblance of happiness I had regained in my life and it was all for nothing. The only good thing to come out of this is that I’m no longer bound by my word to help her. I just… Magnus, when did she turn into this selfish, uncaring person.” 

"What do you mean, pumpkin?” The gentle click of porcelain meeting concrete echoed like a gunshot in Simon’s ears as he stared up at the night sky.

“She used to be so caring. Always ready to listen, and encourage. I used to love her for it.” Simon shrugged helplessly. “Now, it’s like she’s this other person who only cares about her own needs and wants. And I get it, her mom was kidnapped and is being held by her newly alive psychotic father. But. When did that make it okay to ignore someone in need of help, to take away their right to die? To take away their choice? When did making alliances, friends, only become a means to an end?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I loved her for most of my natural life. But this, this isn’t the girl I loved and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to look her in the eye again without feeling this anger.” Simon smiled painfully. “And now, thanks to her, I’ll only ever have the ghost of something that could have been.”

“You mean, Raphael and…” Magnus squeaked, surprise coloring his voice.

“I had some trouble sleeping. So, he’d stay awake with me and tell me stories until I fell asleep. He’d listen when I rambled on and on, made sure I was comfortable and fed. He took care of me. He’s the first person I’ve ever cared about to do that for me. I could let go with him. I didn’t feel like a monster around him.”

“Sounds like you really liked him, Sheldon.” Magnus teased, tugging a thick curl at Simon’s nape.

“I was starting too.” Was the whispered reply. They sat in silence for a bit, Simon watching the thin clouds drift over the stars and Magnus dragging soothing fingers through Simon’s hair. The quiet ding on his phone broke the stillness and Simon glanced down to see that he had a text from Camille.

I FOUND A USE FOR YOU. PIER 7. HALF AN HOUR. DON’T BE LATE.

“Shalom?” Magnus gently prodded the back of Simon’s head. Simon heaved a gusty sigh and stood, pocketing his phone as he smiled down at Magnus. The warlock looked small and tired as he sat on the concrete in a burgundy silk robe and shiny silver sweatpants. He had looked this way since he had heard of Camille’s release. 

“I just…” Simon scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Magnus.”

“Simon. Why does that sound like goodbye?” Magnus’ gaze sharped.

“That’s because I’m doing something stupid. Don’t ask. Okay? Just… trust me, please.” Simon smiled reassuringly as Magnus slowly nodded. Simon sped off to the rendezvous before Magnus could say anything else.

He hated goodbyes.


	2. Blood Debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm gonna give everyone a fair heads up. I have no Beta Reader, so I apologize for any large mistakes that slipped through! Also, heads up for some not too detailed torture.

_

The pier was empty when Simon walked up, and Simon frowned down at his phone. He was a few minutes early, and Simon wondered just what it was that Camille had wanted him to do. He knew that whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. The soft click of high heels on cement drew his attention to the slender form approaching him from the shadows swamping the left side of the pier. Camille grinned at him as she sauntered closer and Simon felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in silent warning. Something was not as it seemed here.

“My little caramel!” She purred, reaching out she dragged her fingers across his chest as she circled him. Simon swallowed harshly. This was not right. “So, I did some thinking, and I decided that maybe I let you in far too easy. After all, just look at how easily you turned on Raphael, you precious knight in shining armor.” Simon flinched, and Camille’s grin was positively blood thirsty.

“I don’t understand… What does a pier have to do with this?” Simon grinned nervously, he wasn’t strong enough to defend himself against Camille yet.

“Nothing.” A dark voice boomed from the shadows. “I, however, have everything to do with it.” The tall, broad shouldered man that meandered up the dock surprised Simon, and when he glanced behind the man’s shoulder he noticed the huge ship that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“What the hell?” Simon tensed and took a step back. Camille’s hand lashed out and her nails split open Simon’s cheek. Simon gasped a bit and clapped a hand to the wound as Camille licked his blood off her nails.

“Don’t even think about it.” She growled.

“What? Camille, what is going on?”

“Don’t worry, Caramel.” Her grin was bloodthirsty. She shoved him into the man, who lashed out with a silver cross and Simon yowled when the holy object was pressed against his bicep.

“So, this is the vampire my Clarissa has been running around with.” Simon shivered with pain and glanced up, brown eyes meeting black and the man’s identity finally connected in his mind. Valentine Morgenstern. Clary’s father. They had the same regal cheekbones and forehead. He gravel crunched under Valentine’s boot as he crouched down next to Simon, and something glinted in the hand not holding the cross. Quick as lightening, he lashed out and emptied the syringe of dead man’s blood into Simon’s neck. Simon’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed in an unceremonious heap on the concrete.

“So? Do we have a deal, or what, Shadowhunter?” Camille eyed her nails, her tone bored as Valentine slung Simon’s weight over one shoulder.

“I suppose the terms have been fulfilled.” Camille gave a delighted smile and cautiously slunk off into the shadows, being very careful not to give Valentine her back.

_

Simon knew the moment he opened his eyes that he was screwed. The steady swaying of the lumpy metal floor beneath him reminded him of the last person he had seen before everything had gone black. Camille had given him to Valentine, as some form of twisted test. Simon lifted himself onto his knees before the world swam sickeningly and he began coughing up the dead man’ blood in his system.

“Fucking Camille.” A wheezing laugh answered him and Simon turned his head to stare at the old man sitting in the farthest corner of his own cell from across the hall. The old man gazed at him sadly and Simon shivered at the ancient gaze. Before Simon could call out to the other prisoner, a soft humming echoed down the hallways. A thin slip of a girl swayed into view, her long, dark hair matted and hanging in wild tangles.

“Hello, little blood drinker!” she sang, shoving her face up against the bars. Simon swallowed hard, it was Dot. Her thin face was pale and full of raised blackened veins, and her dark eyes were vacant and lifeless as she stared at him. “Mm, Valentine is going to have fun breaking you, boy.”

“Dot… What happened? Are you okay?” Simon whispered urgently as he tried to reach out to her through the bars, the chains around his ankle preventing him from crossing the extra distance. Her blank gaze sparked with faint recognition, and her grin widened.

“Si-mon!” she giggled and swirled away from the bars of Simon’s cell, dancing off into the darkness, her voice haunting. “Stay strong, pretty, or your world will burn.”

“Oh, Dot…” Simon whispered to himself. Whatever Valentine had done to her had broken something in her mind. Not for the first time did Simon wish that the man had actually burnt to death in the blaze that had scorched his wife’s ancestral home.

_

Well. Dot wasn’t wrong. Valentine had taken great pleasure in learning all the ways he could make Simon scream. After the particularly grueling sessions, Dot would drizzle liquid into his mouth out of an ornate goblet. The liquid always burned, and Simon would scream as it traced a pathway down his throat. Dot merely giggled at his screams and poured more liquid into his mouth.

_

The old man across from his watched him quietly whenever he was brought back to his cell. Simon would drag his broken, often times bloody body into a sitting position and lean against the salted walls of his cell before meeting the unsettling gaze.

“Why do you fight him like this, Si-mon?” Dot asked him one day, trailing her fingers over his arm as he breathed through the pain of his healing wounds. “He will break you, you know. Given enough time, you will break just as the rest of us did. Just as I did.” Dot’s voice had lost its airy quality and she leaned over him, her dark eyes fathomless. Her fingers clawed harshly into Simon’s burnt wrists and Simon hissed at her harsh treatment.

Simon had bared his teeth in a fierce mockery of a smile and said “you cannot break a broken man.” Dot had merely frowned and reached for the goblet she always brought with her.

“You can. There’s always a way.” Dot smiled down at Simon, who was spasming in her lap as the liquid drained down his throat. “To love is to destroy, Si-mon, and you… you love deeply, don’t you?”

_

“Hey, Dot?” Simon whispered after one of his torture sessions, Dot hummed at him, her eyes following her fingers as they traced the still healing cuts on his shoulder blades. “Do you remember, a few years ago, when I was eleven?” Dot’s large dark eyes focused in on his face. “And I would come to your store after school and help you organize all of your antiques?” His fingers shook as he brushed them over her shoulder, his breathing raspy with pain. 

"Si-mon.”

“A-and one day, I walked in with a bloody nose and a big bruise on my jaw?” Simon coughed out a laugh. “You were so mad at me for fighting, said that I was better than that. That there were other ways to solve my problems.” Dot made a slight noise, leaning away from him a bit. “I never told you how I got it, did I?”

“No…” Dot whispered, and for the first time since Simon’s captivity had begun, he watched as a hint of humanity entered her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Jimmy Cage had been making fun of a little girl. I told him to knock it off, and he punched me.” Simon smiled. “I punched him back, broke his nose and gave him the biggest black eye. I got the bloody nose tripping on my own two feet walking to the store. Caught myself with my face on the sidewalk.” Dot laughed.

_

“Last chance, revenant. Tell me what you know about the New York clan.” Valentine sounded bored, almost terrifyingly casual, as he pushed against the lever a few feet to Simon’s right. The metal shutters expanded a little and Simon began to scream when the sunlight spilling through hit his flesh.

“Go fuck yourself.” Simon snarled, his fangs bared in pain and fury. Valentine sighed and shut the window, pulling a seraph blade from his hip, he strode forwards. The blade cut deep into Simon’s gut.

“Maybe next time, then.” Valentine sighed, withdrawing the blade. Simon screamed as his flesh sizzled back together, cauterized even as he was cut.

“Never.” Simon howled.

“Never is a strong word, revenant.” Valentine smiled grimly. “Don’t test my patience.”

_

Simon tried not to sleep. His dreams were always dark and bloody, full of death and mayhem at his own hands. The worst were the nights when he had been caught unawares by his own fatigue. Those nights, he watched as Camille pulled Raphael apart, limb by limb while Simon watched, helpless.

The old man hummed soothing tunes on those nights.

Simon huddled, shivering and wide awake as he listened, focusing on that instead of the after image of Raphael’s betrayed expression.

Those nights were the worst.

_

Sometimes, when Valentine was feeling particularly annoyed for whatever reason, Simon wasn’t even questioned on his knowledge of the New York clan. Valentine would string him up and rend the flesh from his bones as often as Simon could heal, the strikes meeting newly healed flesh with unerring accuracy.

Sometimes, all Simon knew was pain.

Sometimes, Simon was pain.

_

The demon Agamemnon made his appearance on one memorable session. Simon, weak from lack of feeding and pain, had shook like a leaf when a bloody Raphael appeared before him.

“Why didn’t you stay? Dios, Simon, why did you betray me?” His voice was hard and angry, so unlike when he guided Simon through his training. Simon’s eyes rolled back into his head, he’d rather give into the pain than go through this again.

_

The end of Simon’s stay amongst Valentine and his minions came at a brutal price. Valentine had carved the angelic rune into Simon’s back. The stele burnt fiercely against his flesh and the now familiar stench of cooking flesh reached Simon’s nose, just moments before the holy energy of the rune crashed through his system. When Valentine tired of his screams, he slid a blade across Simon’s throat. Simon gagged on the pain, and shuddered when he felt the burning slice- almost like a papercut- against the tender skin of his wrists.

“You should have just told me what I wanted to know.” Valentine muttered, and the muffled thud of his boots as he strode away was the last thing Simon heard as he passed out from the pain.

And then there was Dot, at the end of it, like always. She cradled his head in her lap and gently poured the liquid in her goblet into his mouth.

It tasted like ash and honey.

Simon had no energy left to scream out at the pain of Dot’s concoction sliding down his ruined throat. “Rest now, Simon, I will see you through the worst of it.” Dot’s familiar voice soothed, and Simon felt a soft hand trail through his hair. Simon closed his eyes- they were so heavy- and when he peeled them open again Carrie’s face was hovering over him. Fear twisted her delicate features and Simon shivered at the raw burning in his throat and wrists. He closed his eyes once more.

_

_His world was on fire._

_

Simon was not the man he had been before the ship. Something fundamental to him had shifted, changed, altered, all while he rested. It took Simon three days to open his eyes once more. He knew instinctively that he was different, that nothing was the same anymore, and that something had altered forever. He could never go back.

Simon shivered, and he felt the heat crawling through his body settle into his bones.

He was made of stardust and the sun’s flames.

His mouth tasted like ash and honey.

_Simon burned._

Whatever Dot had done to him, he wasn’t healing the way he should have been. It was a slow process and Simon was bedridden with fever for a week after his first awakening. Carrie was a constant presence, and Simon wondered – when the sunlight touched the horizon, and his fever dreams retreated in the face of true rest – why it was her bond was so sad.

“Henrik…” Carrie whispered one night, dabbing at Simon’s damp forehead with a cool cloth. The scent of Angel blood wafted off his skin, staining the air with its ash and honey sweetness. “He calls out for him, for this Raphael. Who is he?”

“Raphael was Simon’s leader.” Henrik shrugged, his eyes sad. “He is Simon’s greatest sin. His greatest regret.”

“What do you mean?” Carrie paused to stare up at the ancient vampire standing on the other side of the bed.

“Simon betrayed Raphael. He was cast out of his clan, and branded a traitor.” Carrie flinched softly, her gaze dipping to settle on Simon’s sleeping face. _He looks sad, even in sleep, he looks sad,_ she thought. “Simon won’t tell me what actually occurred between them that night, but I do know this, fledgling. When we love, we love deeply. We feel everything, and for Simon to betray that, it must have been life or death. He has not stopped trying to right the wrong he dealt since.”

“Can we help?” Carrie brushed a curl off Simon’s forehead. His skin felt like an open flame to her fingertips.

“Only as much as he chooses to allow us to,” Henrik sighed. “Some battles are to be fought alone.”

_

The first time Simon was strong enough to stand, he shrugged out of his shirt and peered over his shoulder into the mirror. The Angelic Rune had been carved in thick, bold black lines between his shoulder blades, nestled safely in a bed of scars. Long, thin, roping scars traversed his upper body from Valentine’s sessions with whips dipped in holy water, from his expertly wielded seraph blades. And as Simon stared into his own eyes, he could see it. The change in him. His gaze held more weight, more power. He had after all, faced down the boogeyman of the Downworld, and come out on top.

Carrie had burst into heaving sobs at his first foray into the kitchens after waking. Simon had awkwardly patted her back until she stopped crying into his t-shirt and then started in on a lecture about safety procedures that would have made his mother proud. “We didn’t know what had happened to you, Si.” Carrie whispered, her big eyes turning faintly pink with the threat of oncoming tears. “You just disappeared, and Camille had abandoned us a couple of days later. We sent Henrik out to find out what happened, but...”

“You should’ve had Henrik stay here,” Simon insisted. “He’s the oldest after Camille, it was his right to claim her abdicated position, you know this.”

“He refused it, Si, said that it was already filled.” She shrugged, “so we sent him out to find you.”

“Carrie, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?” Simon finally sighed, eyeing her fidgeting hands on the counter top. Carrie rarely fidgeted, she thought it was improper or something.

“Camille sent us a fire message a few days ago. She’ll be returning to her position as clan leader in a week. We’re meeting with the New York clan leader and his seconds to discuss a treaty with Valentine.” Simon inhaled sharply. “Camille is representing Valentine’s interests. She’s signed away her clan’s allegiance. The New York clan leader accepted the invitation.”

“Politics.” Simon exhaled, his breathing shaky. “What the hell was she thinking? Siding with Valentine?”

“I know right?” Carrie scoffed, and Simon was once again reminded that Carrie was only fourteen when Camille had Turned her, four years Simon’s junior. “I mean, just look at what he did to you.”

“Oh.” Simon breathed, understanding dawning in his mind. “It’s a trap.”

“What?” Carrie frowned.

“Valentine kept pressing me for information about the New York clan. I wouldn’t give it to him, so he cut my throat.” Simon’s fingers pressed against the faint scar above his collarbone. “Camille’s meeting. He’s going to wipe out the New York clan, starting with the leaders. It’ll incite a civil war within the Shadow World, because Valentine hasn’t been officially declared a rouge by the Clave yet. He was thought to have been dead for the past eighteen years.” Carrie’s eyes were huge and dark in her pale face.

“What do we do, Si?” Simon bit his lip.

“What we should’ve done a long time ago… what I should’ve done.” Simon sighed, and slumped against the counter top. His reflection was distorted in the glimmering metal surface. “We take her out.”

“How do you know she’ll even be there?” Henrik’s deep growl called out from the entrance of the kitchen, his gaze heavy on Simon’s.

“She’ll be there. Any chance she’d get to get back at Raphael for taking the clan out from under her feet? She’ll want front row seats.” Simon grinned, bleak and sharp in his pale face.

Henrik weighed that response for a while. He tilted his head, “what’ve you got so far for a plan then?”

“God.” Simon breathed, scrubbing a hand over his face, not noticing the astonished look on Carrie’s face or the subtle widening of Henrik’s eyes. “It’s a shitty plan, but it might be the only thing that’ll work.”

“Won’t know until you tell us.” Carrie urged, desperate for an end to Camille’s vicious shadow looming over her head. Her arms still bore the savage scars from Camille’s teeth. Simon reached out a placed a gentle hand over the mark. This was why he was doing it. This was his mistake, his to correct.

“We have to allow the meeting to commence as planned.” Simon began quietly. “But Camille. She needs to be left to me. You have to keep the New York clan leaders safe. She won’t be alone, not if she’s allied with Valentine. She’ll bring demons.”

“Give me one reason why you face her alone?” Henrik’s voice was deep.

“I can’t. Not really, I’m not even the one person she’s hurt the most, but I am the one who released her back into this world.” Simon pressed his palm to the stainless steel countertop. The contrast between his skin and the ice cold metal was startling. Simon’s fingers burned.

“Not good enough. Try again.” Henrik prompted, Carrie’s hand pressed against his back as Simon braced himself against the counter, both hands firmly planted.

“It’s my responsibility.” Simon swallowed. “It’s my duty to my clan.” Henrik stared at him stoically. “To my people.”

“At last, the vampire awakens.” Henrik grinned, all fang. Simon was instantly reminded that Henrik was a nomadic vampire, he lived without a clan, without a leader, owing loyalty to no one. Henrik’s only reason for being present was to guide Simon fully into the Shadow World.

_

There comes a moment in time, where a man has to swallow his pride, where he has to become bigger than he is and reach out a hand to those who wronged him. Where he has to forgive the betrayal dealt to him and move forward, or risk becoming mired in hate and pain.

Simon knew that he’d forgive Clary for what she did, but he’d never forget it. How could he? The way the words she threw back into his face had stung his ears, the way his continued refusal had lit fires in his veins. The way she had watched, coldly, detachedly, as her best friend writhed on the ground until he agreed. Simon knew that he’d forgive her, he’d do it the very moment ‘I’m sorry,’ crossed her lips.

Maybe, from anyone else’s perspective, he could admire her fierce, uncompromising determination to restore her mother, maybe. Simon could understand her need for the one last anchor to the past that had been her life for so long. What he honestly couldn’t comprehend was the fact that it had come at the price of their bond, of their years of friendship. Of his love for her.

Burdened by these thoughts, Simon reached out a heavy hand placed it on the heavy wooden door of the New York Institute. With a slight creak, it swung open under his hand and Simon stepped foot in the building for the first time after his death. It remained just the same, imposing and imperiously ornate. Simon shivered at the mingled energy lining the halls, Magnus’ wards and the Nephilim’s own warding runes tangled together in the desperate hopes of staving off the darkness that lingers outside the doors.

On silent feet he cut through the hallways, following the echoes of the Shadowhunters he knew. Opening the door he found himself in a training room, and in the middle of the practice mats was Clary, laughing and dancing around in a mock battle with Isabelle, a carefree glint in her eyes. Off to the side he noticed Alec and Jace standing shoulder to shoulder, looking over a troubling report based off Alec’s narrowed gaze. Magnus leaned against the wall a few feet behind them, flicking his gaze between his phone and his paramour. Simon knew that Magnus had known he was here the moment he stepped over the threshold. Steeling himself for the confrontation to come, Simon drew upon the coldness that lingered in his chest, - the coldness that he fostered to temper the hot pain of Valentine’s torture - for confidence.

“Hello, Sabrina.” Magnus called out and everyone in the room froze, their gazes finding the stoic vampire in the doorway. “Care to tell me where exactly it was you disappeared to? I dislike being ignored, and for a month and a half no less.” Simon dipped his head in acknowledgement, shifting his weight to the left. He still wasn’t completely healed from his last bout of training. Henrik was spectacularly ferocious now that the plan to end Camille’s reign was being put into action.

“I told you. I went to do something stupid.” Simon smiled, a small, crooked thing. Magnus frowned as he watched Simon’s eyes. They were older than they had been. Everyone’s gaze bounced between them, curious. “Camille gave me to Valentine, Magnus.” Clary gasped.

Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “And?” Simon hesitated a moment, his gaze calculating at he watched the others through his peripheral. Blue sparks danced along Magnus’ fingers, the threat clear. If Simon had done anything to betray Raphael a second time, he would not live to make a third betrayal.

Simon tugged his scarf away from his throat, the loose collar baring the jagged scar that decorated the width of his throat. Magnus’s gaze went wide at the sight, and the tension in the room thickened. “He didn’t like having to use Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?” Alec’s quiet voice was a surprise to the other occupants. Simon was the only one who hadn’t jumped.

“Camille joined forces with him. They’re planning to launch an attack on Hotel Dumont. Take out the New York clan and the whole Downworld network in the northern hemisphere is thrown off. Destabilized.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Alec’s eyes were an intense, brilliant blue.

Simon shrugged, scratching at his scar with absent fingers. “Valentine and his Circle haven’t been declared as Rogue, yet. If the New York clan retaliates against Valentine and his Circle in any way, the Clave has no choice but to declare war on them.” Simon rocked back on his heels, a nonchalant grin on his face. “The thing is, is I owe the New York clan leader a blood debt.” Magnus’s eyebrow quirked at the former fledgling.

“Mind elaborating, _vampire_. What does this have to do with us?” Isabelle cut in, strolling over to stand at her brother’s left.

“When the attack comes, it won’t just be Circle members. Camille and her followers will be there. Which is no problem, the vampires can handle their own.” Simon’s grin disappeared, and Alec straightened at the look in Simon’s gaze. “But, and once again, Circle members are still part of the Clave at this point, and with them will come the demon horde Valentine has no doubt promised to Camille. And last time I checked, _Shadowhunter,_ that is your job. To defend against the demonic hordes?” Isabelle sneered at him as Magnus smothered a laugh into his fist. When she took a step forwards, always quick to the fight, Simon bared his fangs in silent warning.

“Simon! What’s gotten into you?” Clary’s voice was shocked, and Simon noticed that she had taken several steps towards him. Simon glanced at her, his gaze cool and dismissive.

“Nothing, Fairchild.” Clary flinched as though struck at his tone and Alec gripped Jace’s forearm when he tensed up. “Do me a favor, stay out of this. I’m not entirely sure the Downworlders I’m trying to protect would survive if you were involved.” Clary’s face when white as paper, her green eyes huge and glassy. Then she blinked, and her cheeks mottled with fury.

“The Shadowhunters will only help if you give us Camille.” She intoned and Simon scoffed.

“You don’t have that kind of authority, Fairchild. You are a foot soldier, you have no sway within the Clave and whatever sway you have within these walls comes at the allowance of the acting head.” Simon’s gaze cut over to Alec, who met his gaze solidly. “In other words, I’m not speaking to you, but to Alexander Lightwood, current head of the New York Institute.” Simon knew that in the eyes of the Clave, Victor Aldertree had been put in place as acting head, but he could feel the magic of the Institute saturating the air around the eldest Lightwood child. The Institute would not be swayed, it had chosen Alec as it’s envoy.

“What do you want for this information, Simon?” Alec’s voice was soft, Clary spluttered in outrage.

“Nothing much.” Simon grinned, all fangs. “Nothing you’ll miss. Just Camille.”

“No!” Clary roared. “Simon, what about my mom!”

Simon spun on her in sudden fury and she shrank back. “What about mine, Clary? Huh? What about my mom! Who thinks I’m dead or dying somewhere right now? Who I can no longer see because she would be at too much risk? Who I might murder because of what you did to me!”

“S-Simon…” Simon made a disgusted noise and slashed a hand through the air, turning back to meet Alec’s calm gaze.

“Camille dies, by my hand, Alec Lightwood. Or so help me _God,_ I will invoke the Covenant upon you. And we both know that your kind can’t handle a war on two fronts. Are you willing to risk your whole species for a newly blooded teenager?” Simon’s gaze was cold as he turned and left the room, not waiting for the answer.

They would know soon enough.


End file.
